' 






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Sir Francis Drake, 



OTHER FUGITIVE POEMS. 



BY ^' 

Col. THOS. J. EVANS. 



Whittet & Shepperson, General Printers. 



1895. 






■J"^ c. r 



V A-3- 



«i-^ 



^ ^, ji.-i »■«' ?^ 

19 /o5 




PREFACE. 



In presenting this little volume, I but carry out 
a suggestion which was, when he lived, urged upon 
my honored father by many of his friends and ad- 
mirers. While it was never the intention of the 
author of these fragmentary verses that they should 
be placed in their present form, I indulge the hope 
that they will prove of more than passing interest 
to his friends and the public alike. 

LOUISA EYANS. 

Richmond, Va., June 15, 1895. 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

BlOGEAPHIOAL SkETOH, 7 

Welcome to De Molay, 11 

Phcebus and the Fat Ladt, 19 

A Pateiotio Piece, 23 

" Chicken FixiN's," 36 

He Chastens in Kindness, 28 

Sunbeams and Shadows, 30 

Advice to a Baoheloe, 31 

Napoleon at St. Helena, 33 

The Falling Leaf, 36 

The Misantheope, 39 

The Last Leaf, ........ 41 

The Old Maid's Soliloquy, 42 

An Enigma, 44 

Impeomptu to Miss Maey Page Lewis, .... 46 



6 CONTENTS. 

. Page. 

Impeomptij to Maey Savage, 48- 

The Smiles of Peovidenoe, 49 

Wae, 50 

Shall Woman Vote, 51 

SiE Feanois Deake, 53- 



Col. THOS. j. EVANS. 



THOS. J. EVANS was born in King William 
county the 2d of February, 1822, and re- 
ceived his education at Kumford Academy and in 
Eichmond, Ya. Having arrived at the age to enter 
business life, he secured a place in the office of 
Mr. Eobinson, Clerk of the General Court, in Eich- 
mond, Va. 

After acquiring a valuable experience in the 
Clerk's office, he entered the law office of Mr. 
Samiiel Taylor, and proved to be an apt and ready 
student. Upon entering into this profession de- 
ceased formed a partnership with Mr. Benjamin 
Tate. 

In 1845 he married Miss Louisa A. Parker, 
daughter of Col. Stafford H. Parker, who was at 



BIOGBAPHIOAL SKETCH. 



one time President j??'*? tern, of the Virginia Senate, 
and for a long period Kegister of the Virginia Land 
Office. After the dissolution of the firm of Tate & 
Evans, he associated in the practice of the law with 
the late Alexander H. Sands, the firm-name being 
Sands & Evans, but the work of deceased's life was 
as Commissioner of Chancery, which position he 
filled with marked ability for thirty years. 

At two different periods in the history of the city 
he was called upon by his fellow-citizens to serve 
them in the Virginia House of Delegates, and he 
was one of the most useful representatives Rich- 
mond ever had. 

He was a well-known Mason ; was Past Master 
of St. John's Lodge, No. 36 ; Past Eminent Com- 
mander of St. Andrew's Commandery Knights 
Templars. 

Before and during the war deceased was Colonel 
of the Nineteenth Eegiment of Virginia militia, a 
command composed of exempts from the active 



BIOGBAPHIGAL SKETCH. 



military service of tlie Confederacy, but whicli was 
nevertlieless almost constantly in the field around 
Eichmond. 

Col. Evans was at the time of his death the 
oldest member of the Board of Trustees of Eich- 
mond College. For a number of years, and up to 
the time of his death, he was one of the Board of 
the Male Orphan Asylum of Eichmond. He was 
an Odd-Fellow of prominence, and was a past 
officer of Fitzhugh Lodge. He was a member of 
the Eichmond Light Infantry Blues before the war, 
and was subsequently a member and ex-president 
of the Blues' Association. 

As a pubhc speaker Colonel Evans enjoyed a 
high reputation, and his services were in frequent 
demand. His rank in his profession was high and 
honorable. As a poet he had considerable talent. 
The friends he kept to the last. In the social cir- 
cle he was delightful. 

He was a true-hearted man. Duplicity and de- 



10 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



ceit found no favor in his eyes and had no place 
in his heart. He was a loving and tender husband 
and father, a friend rich in affection, a citizen who 
served his city and State loyally and freely. 



FUGITIVE POEMS. 



JDelcome to De ITToIay. 

A committee of three from De Molay Commandery of Boston 
visited Kichmond, Va., in April, 1881, to complete arrange 
ments for a pilgrimage of their Commandery to the City of 
Seven Hills. At a banquet given in their honor, Col. Thos. J. 
Evans delivered the following original poem : 

'I X /"E live in tlie South, where the sun rules the 
^ ^ day, 

A pillar of beauty, effulgent each ray — 
A halo of glory encircles his brow, 
At his rising and setting the earth makes a bow. 

We live in a land where the mocking bird sings, 
And the butterfly spreads to the sun her bright 
wings; 



FUGITIVE POEMS. 



"Where the peach blossom opens its beautiful eyes 
Ere the spring-time has come, or cold -winter 

dies ; 
Where in forests the fragrant magnolia grows, 
The cactus, pomegranate, the orange, the rose ; 
Where the melon is perfect in flavor and size, 
A charm to the taste, a deUght to the eyes ; 
Where the small foot of woman treads lightly the 

earth, 
Giving proof of her breeding and excellent birth ; 
Where men are as proud as the proudest of 

kings. 
And many as poor as the poorest of things, 
Yet ready to share the last crumb with a friend. 
And stand by his side in a fight to the end. 

I saw a lamb the other day 
Skipping o'er the lawn in play. 
And it did gently, meekly say, 
Bring from Boston De Molay. 



WELCOME TO BE MOLAY. 13 



Upon a tree not far away 
There sat a bird ; it was the jay ; 
I listened and I heard him say, 
Bring from Boston De Molay, 

Close by the tree there ran a brook ; 
It had a merry, happy look, 
And as it threw its snowy spray 
Against a rock right in its way. 
In sounds of music it did say, 
Bring here the Knights of De Molay. 

Across the brook a horse did stray, 
Along a field well set with hay ; 
He turned and looked, and then did neigh, 
By which he plainly meant to say, 
Saddle me for De Molay. 

Beasts and birds and streams unite 
In urging Richmond to invite 



14 FUaiTIVE POEMS. 



The Boston Knights to come and see 
Virginia hospitality. 

We will not promise overmuch, 
Such as we have, we'll give you such ; 
Will try to make you feel as free 
As those who meet and do agree. 

We'll take you to the outer lines, 
And there you'll see the Seven Pines ; 
And then we'll show you, if you will, 
The top of famous Malvern Hill, 
And take a peep at Gaines's Mill. 

We'll take you sailing on the Jeems, 
So crooked that it often seems 
In going to its mouth 
To be in doubt how to get out — 
By east, west, north or south. 



WELCOME TO BE MO LA Y. 15 



Dutch Gap you must not fail to see ; 
It was commenced by General B. ; 
Projected for the ends of war, 
Completed under peace and law. 

We want you to come ; though humble our home, 
Our tongues and our hearts say to De Molay, 

come; 
The Sir Knights of Eichmond with emphasis say 
They wait with impatience the long-looked-for day 
When the Sir Knights of Boston shall be our 

guests. 
And we shall establish by unfailing tests, 
That we still recollect with unspeakable joy, 
How you every delicate art did employ 
To make us the happiest men in the world. 
When, six years ago, our banners unfurled, 
Were cheered by the people of Boston. 



Cl^e 3mmortal Six, 

O IE Knights and Brothers, 

^ With the season I greet you. A happy New 
Year ! 

A pocket full of money and a barrel full of beer ! 
"What cheer!" 

A cheek without a blush, an eye without a tear ; 

A life without a doubt — its end without a fear ; 

And when you cross the river, may the shadow of 
the trees 

Forever keep you cool. Be yours the gentle breeze, 

And a full supply of water be ever at your hand — 

This vrish is well intended. Do you fully under- 
stand? 

If not, go ask of White. He can and will explain. 

He's very fond of water, the fishing streams of 
Maine — 



TEE IMMORTAL SIX. 17 



He is a jolly fellow; a splendid fellow, he! 

A better fellow Eiclimond boys will never meet or 

see. 
Kiss him for the Eichmond boys, 
Kiss his classic mouth ; 
His heart is just as big and warm as any in the 

South. 

John Heathcote, with his quiet smile, we never 

shall forget; 
With all of us a favorite, with most of us a 

pet. 
Send us a dozen locks of hair right off the head of 

Rhodes, 
The boys send lots of love to him — indeed, they 

send dead loads. 
Colossus he, in all that's good, and pleasant all 

his modes ; 
A refuge for the troubled craft : 
"We call him Hampton Eoads. 



18 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



George Burnliam, witli his countenance as open as 

the day, 
The boys all talk so much of him, 
I don't know what they say ; 
But this I know, they never say a word but in his 

praise. 
Long may he live and prosper too, in all his works 

and ways. 

And Walker, with his honest face, a mirror of the 

truth. 
Like Washington, he never lied, not even in his 

youth ; 
Companion true ! Zerubbabel ! he never will reveal 
A secret which has stamped on it the virtue of 

" the seal." 

Heathcote, Burnham, Ehodes and White, 
Arnold, Walker, six 

Cherished names with Richmond Knights ! — 
Who cares for politics ? 
Richmond, Va., Jan. 1, 1882. 



Scene — Office Hygda Hotels Old Point, Virginia. Present . 
Phceius and three clerks. 

Enter Fat Lady. 

Fat Lady : Proprietor, I came to say 
I've packed my trunk to go away. 

Phgebus : My dearest madam, don't say so ; 
I liope sincerely you'll not go. 
Your company is prized by all — 
Tlie old, the young, the great, the small. 
Pray, what's the matter ? Tell me quick, 
Bad news from home ? Or, are you sick ? 

Fat Lady : Not that, sir ; nothing like it. No I 
But you have cheated, fooled me so. 



20 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



Ph(EBUS : Pray, liow and wlien was all tliat done ? 
SucIl treatment I extend to none. 

Fat Lady : You put me in that horrid room, 
Fit only for a nurse or groom. 
Fronting on the laundry's steam, 
And where mosquitos daily seem 
To congregate each morn and night. 
Look at my hands — see, what a sight ! 
And where no breath of air is felt ; 
This is the way with which I'm dealt. 
You promised in a day or more, 
To give me Forty-two or Four. 
As yet you have not kept your word ; 
Such falsehood I have never heard. 

Phcebus : My dearest madam. Forty-seven 
Is held to be a very heaven. 
I'm sorry it don't suit you, yet 
Be patient, I will try to get 



PH(EBU8 AND THE FAT LADY. 21 



A room to suit you to a T, 

All fronting right out on the sea, 

Where breeze from north, south, east, 

and west 
Will fan you while you take your rest : 
From which you'll see all ships and boats. 
And every craft that by us floats — 
Capes Charles and Henry, Ocean Yiew, 
The Rip-Raps and the Hghthouse too. 
I cannot give you Forty-two ; 
That's occupied by Mr. Drew. 
Nor can I give you Forty-four ; 
That's been engaged by Mrs. Moore. 
Now I have it. Thirty-nine 
Is empty. It is very fine. 
'Twill please you. Yes, I know you'll like it. 
You are very lucky now to strike it. 

Fat Lady : You want to give me Thirty-nine ? 
You cross of fox and beast canine ! 



FUGITIVE POEMS. 



That's just what you ought to have had 
Eepeatedly when but a lad. 
And now, for all your manhood's lies, 
Concealed with thin apologies, 
You should be thrown into the sea 
And drowned ! you prince of perfidy ! 

Phcebus : Excuse me, madam. Long debates 
Grow into quarrels, strifes, and hates. 
The boat will leave the wharf at eight. 
And take you to your native State, 
Where you can scold, and fret, and swear, 
And rave, and rant, and pull your hair ; 
But leave me here, in peace and rest, 
With those who always do their best 
To be content with what they find 
When seeking rest for body — mind. 

{^Exeunt Phcebus and the Fat Lady in different directions.'] 



a patriotic piece. 



At a banquet given to the Pennsylvania members of the 
Legislature and the Grand Army of the Kepublic, visitors to 
Richmond, Va., Col. Thos. J. Evans, one of the speakers, eon- 
eluded his speech of welcome with the following lines : 

^ A /"E liail your visit as the sign 

^ ^ That ?iow there is no battle line 
Between us drawn in human blood 
Poured out in torrents, like a flood. 

The fight is o'er ; so let it be. 
Our cause was lost when General Lee 
Surrendered, with his gallant men. 
And then declared and promised then, 
To keep the peace, and silence too, 
"With North and East, with West and you. 

He did not go on bended knees, 

A tyrant's anger to appease ; 



FUGITIVE POEMS. 



Nor was he asked by you to yield 
In such a way, upon the field 
Which you had won and we had lost 
At mighty sacrifice and cost. 

We've tried our phghted faith to keep, 
To bury down, far down and deep, 
All bitter memories of the past ; 
To raise up to the topmost mast 
The Stars and Stripes, the flag of old, 
Which should Americans enfold 
In love, and hope, and union. 

We held that our cause was right ; 

You viewed it in a different light ; 

And so it ended in a fight 

Displaying courage, skill, and might. 
And now the cruel war is o'er, 
Let's love each other but the more ; 



A PATRIOTIC PIECE. 25 



And let us take each other's hand, 
And by each other proudly stand — 
Joint owners of this goodly land 
Of equal rights and freedom ! 



A T midniglit in his latticed coop, 
-' *■ The cock was dreaming of the hour, 
"When other cocks their tails should droop 

And tremble at his power. 
In dreams o'er hill and dale he wore 
The plumage of a conqueror; 
Now roamed abroad, with head erect, 
And all the little chickens pecked. 
While scattered round him on the hill. 
His gaudy harem, loud and shrill, 
His crow of triumph heard. 

An hour passed by — old Shanghai woke. 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke to hear the housewife shriek, 
" The Baptists come ! this week ! this week! " 



" CHICKEN fixings:' 27 



He woke to die, midst flame and smoke — 

Be harikaried — put to soak — 

Be hashed up by the kitchen folk — 

With many savory "mixin's"; 
And when to-morrow's sun shall shine, 
The hungry delegates shall dine 

Upon his " chicken fixin's." 

Poor Shanghai ! with the martyred brave, 

Corn-fed and nurtured in thy prime. 
Rest thee ! there is no hoHer grave — 

No nobler fate than thine. 
The saints who feed upon thy flesh 
Will ever keep thy mem'ry fresh ; 

Nor lisp thy name without a sigh. 
For thou art Fame's through coming years, 
One of the immortal chanticleers, 

Born for the church to fry. 



^e Cl^astens in Kinbness. 

Q AD tears I shed when father died, 
^ But they were childhood's tears- 
"With dread I looked upon the grave, 
But they were childish fears. 



A little while, and mother too 

Was buried by his side ; 
And, though a boy, I wished that I, 

Instead of her, had died. 

A few years more, and wife and child 

Both in one coffin lay ; 
With grief and sorrow I was wild — 

That was my darkest day. 



HE CHASTENS IN KINDNESS. 29 



I felt that God was mad witli me, 
Thus to bereave and curse. 

The sun went down upon my wrath, 
And daily I grew worse. 

Oh ! great mistake ! I knew not then 
What now I full well know, 

That God in kindness chastens men, 
Kings, peasants, high and low. 



Sunbeams anb Sl^a^ows, 

'T^HEEE'S not a heart that beats with life, 
■■■ But knows its peace, but has its strife ; 
But has its shadows of the night, 
Its sunbeams too, its morning Hght. 

Yes, every heart, the false, the true. 
Has shadows and its sunbeams, too. 



Ctbr»tce to a Bacl^clor, 

\ J{ AN was not made to live alone 

In this rough world of ours, 

TMs truth is clearly, plainly shown 

By beasts and birds and flowers ; 
In droves and herds they roam the field. 

In flocks they move through air ; 
In clumps and bunches perfume yield — 

In each we find the pair. 

Learn then without delay, this truth ; 

And act without delay — 
"Waste not the vigor of your youth ; 

December follows May. 



FUGITIVE POEMB. 



And so life's winter soon will come- 
How dreary ! ah., how cold ! 

Unless you have a wife at home, 
You'll need her when you're old. 
December 26, 1865. 



rtapoleon at St -F^elena. 

^ AD scene of human glory ! how changed is all ! 

A year ago how great ! ah, now how small ! 
Once, at his coming, monarchs, filled with fright, 
Pled before his march or yielded to his might. 
Thrones were only toys for him, and crowns 
Brightened in his smiles, crumbled 'neath his 

frowns. 
Scarce one campaign was ended, peace restored, 
And ere his soldiers had put off their sword, 
And long before the wounds of all were healed, 
His war-trump called them to another field. 
Scarce had the roar of cannon ceased to sound. 
The din of war been hushed to calm repose : 
3 



FUGITIVE POEMS. 



Scarce were tlie heads of fallen heroes cold, 

And ere their graves were tufted o'er with 

green ; 
Scarce soothed the widow's grief, and stopped her 

tears, 
And orphans' cries no longer pained the ear, 
Before Napoleon, on his bloody car, 
Rode forth to curse some other land with war. 
The victor of a hundred fields was he. 
All Europe quite enslaved while he was free. 
Now, the humblest subject of the British realm 
Has far more liberty than he. The helm 
Of that proud ship which he was wont to 

guide 
Through seas of blood to gratify his pride. 
Is wrested from his hand. His ship is sunk. 
His tree of glory but a shattered trunk. 
So scathed by Europe's joint and fatal blow. 
That from its scorched remains no branch can 
grow. 



NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. 



Upon the issue of a single day 
He staked his all, and left the "world to say 
Just this : Blucher came, and then Napoleon fell 
To rise no more. The tale's too sad to tell. 



CI]e falling Ceaf. 

Lines suggested by the falling of the first leaf from a tree. 
(August, 1865.) 

'TpHE first to fall! The others all were green. 

^ A tender leaf it was, and very pale, 
Though not dried np, nor crisp by sun or storm. 
It grew upon the topmost bough, and held. 
As it deserved, high rank among its fellows. 
Its early promise was as bright and fair 
For health and life as any on the tree. 
But soon, ah, very soon ! the hidden seed 
Of some unknown disease, in secret sown, 
And by some hand unseen, began to show 
The work of death begun, and told too plain, 
That in a week or two at most, that leaf 
Must fall — must from its parent stem be torn, 
And to its mother earth return. It fell 



THE FALLING LEAF. 



As softly as a flake of snow would fall 
Upon a new-made bed of snow at night. 
In silence sad it passed its sister leaves ; 
They sweetly kissed it in its passage down, 
And bowed a last farewell. And as they bowed, 
The gathered dew, distilled the night before, 
Came trickling down in shining drops, as pure 
As angel tears. These are the tears of leaves, 
Let fall to soften and enrich their bed, 
On which they too must soon lie down beside 
The falling-first — the pioneer to death. 

'Tis not alone the willow tree that weeps. 
Others there are among the trees that weep. 
No biting frost had ever blanched this leaf; 
No chilling wind had ever pierced it through ; 
No cause could be discerned why it should fall 
So soon. (Death's cause is often hid!) It fell, 
But yet so gently, through its fellow leaves 
No rustling noise was made. They served to break 
Its fall and kindly hand it down to earth, 



FUGITIVE POEMS. 



Upon whose breast a bed of velvet green 
Was spread, just suited to receive tlie child — 
Snch as a mother's hand, and hers alone, 
Knows how to spread for those she loves so well. 

So, prematurely, falls full many a youth. 
Unlike the leaf, the youth must rise again 
To live through an eternity of bliss, 
Or else through endless woe. 'Tis by man's fruits 
That man is to be known ; and man is saved 
By Sis rich fruits who hanged upon a tree. 



CI|e Znisantbropc. 

O ELFISH, fretful, peevish, proud ; 
Sometimes silent, seldom loud; 
Always angry, never kindj 
Sees all faults, to good deeds blind ; 
Hears all slander, and believes 
That every man his friend deceives ; 
Thinks that truth is scarcer far 
Than gold extracted from a star ; 
That virtue is not oftener met 
Than drops from clouds that do not wet ; 
That friendship is not oftener found 
Than pearls upon the barren ground ; 
That honor has no place of rest 
Within the wicked human breast ; 
That honesty 'twist man and man 
Was never known since time began ; 
That wives may do for knaves and fools, 



M) FUGITIVE POEMS. 



That cMldren should be thrown in pools 

And drowned before they ope their eyes 

To all the world's deceits and lies. 

" Religion ! " to himself, says he, 

" Grand system of hypocrisy ! 

A faith which many men profess, 

A practice which no men possess." 

When lying on his dying bed. 

With aching heart and burning head, 

He whispered, yet 'twas heard ; he said : 

" I never knew but one true man, 

(Of woman, never one) 
Alone his race on earth he ran, 

And his is nearly run." 



CI|e Cast Ceaf. 

np HE last to fall ! I took it for a bird 

*• Perched high upon the very crowning bough 
Of that old oak, and, eager for the sport, 
I took my gun from o'er the passage door, 
Then closely crept beside the chestnut fence 
That ran along the margin of the field, 
Till well within the range at which my gun 
"Was sure to take effect if rightly aimed. 
The trusty piece was to the shoulder brought, 
The barrel leveled, and the aim was taken — 
When, lo ! a leaf, and not a bird, was seen. 



Cl^e 01b maih's Soliloquy, 

T I EEE I've been waiting for forty -tliree years, 
Sometimes in smiles, and sometimes in 
tears ; 
Sometimes in white, and sometimes in red. 
With hair growing long, then close to my head -, 
Sometimes with ear-rings as long as my arm, 
Attached to my belt has been many a charm ; 
On each finger a ring, with diamonds some set, 
With breastpins of gold, the handsomest jet. 
And with all these attractions, oh, horror ! as yet 
No man has proposed. I've a good right to fret. 
I have seen other girls, not so pretty as I, 
With teeth from the dentist, one with a glass eye, 
Have beaux by the dozen, and, better than all, 
A husband to come at her beck and her call. 
And still here am I, all alone in the world. 
My hair has grown grey — too thin to be curled. 



THE OLD MAID'S SOLILOQUY. 43 



And now that the Yankees are killing the men, 
When shall I get married ? Ah ! echo says, when? 
Who'll give me an answer? Oh! for some kind 

friend 
To give me encouragement unto the end. 
And assure me that, though I've long been de- 
layed, 
I shall yet have a husband, not die an old maid. 
Cole's Feeet, September 4, 1863. 



T AM a CTirioiis one, very hard to find out ; 
■'■ I never was seen Tvitli papa ; 
And strange as it seems, yet 'tis tme, beyond 
doubt, 
I never was known to mama. 
Though I dwell in the fields, am not seen in the 
wood, 
I prefer the sweet shade to the sun ; 
I can five in the stream, yet would die in the 
flood, 
Am not seen in a walk or a run. 
Though the first of the earth, I'm the last of the 
race 
To be found with the wicked and great. 
I go with the vilest, share in their disgrace. 
Their poverty, misery, and fate. 



AW ENIGMA. 45 



And yet I liave always kept company, too, 
With the wisest and best of the land. 

The honest, the prudent, the brave, and the true, 
Men fit for the highest command. 
May, 1863. 



impromptu to ZHiss 2l1ary page CetDts. 

11 A ISS MAEY PAGE is just tlie age 

To fall in love sincerely, 
And just tlie size, with winning eyes, 

To be beloved most dearly. 
She's just twice eight, the sweetest state 

Known to the maiden youth, 
With ready smile, devoid of guile, 

All full of hope and truth. 
A few more years, with all their cares, 

Will find her some one's wife ; 
A little chap about her lap. 

The pride of all her life. 
In two years more, if not before, 

A girl will crown her labors ; 
The praise of this sweet httle miss 

Will spread among the neighbors. 



IMPROMPTU TO MISS MABT PAGE LEWIS. 47 



Ah ! but this miss, with smile and kiss, 

Some evil will betoken ; 
Her brother's nose, by several blows, 

Too surely will be broken. 

July, 1863. 



impromptu to ZHary SatJage. 

\ Jf ISS MARY, you must claange your name ; 

^^ ^ Indeed, it is a burning sliame 
That one so gentle, fair and kind, 
Should bear a name that brings to mind 
The Indian in his fiercest mood. 
The wild beast of the desert wood. 
Unsuited name ! You are no more Savage 
Than Micraefellse is a cabbage. 
All changes are not for the best, 
But you'd do well to make it West. 
July, 1S62. 



C^e Smiles of prot)tbence. 

""T^HE smiles of Providence are seen 

^ In fruitful seasons, meadows green- 
In sunshine and the gentle shower, 
At noonday and the midnight hour ; 
In limpid streams that rush and leap 
O'er mountain side and rugged steep ; 
In placid lakes that seem to sleep, 
In creeks that through the valleys creep, 
In harvest fields and forests. 
August, 1862. 



Wax, 

r> EIM-VISAGED war, with blood-shot eyes, 
^^ With iron heels, of brass his thighs. 
With brazen forehead, arms of steel. 
With heart of stone too cold to feel. 
With nerves of wire, granite head. 
His tears of joy are melted lead. 



Sl^all Woman Vok? 

(^ HE needs to cast but a single vote 
^^ In all her life's extent ; 
And tliat should be a silent vote ; 
'Tis silence gives consent. 



And then the man that gets that vote 

Is a happier mother's son 
Than he who gets ten thousand votes, 

And is sent to Washington. 



Sir ;5i^ands Drake. 

'"T^HE guilty parents never married, 
* The helpless babe is often carried, 
In a basket covered o'er, 
To some childless mother's door ; 
There to remain till break of day. 
To be received or sent away. 
This has been done a thousand times 
By those who would conceal their crimes. 
A curious instance of the kind 
In "Leonard's Legends" you may find, 
"Where, speaking of the English nuns. 
In substance thus the story runs : 

An infant was in London born. 
Whose parents were unknown ; 

The little stranger, soon one morn. 
Was on the public thrown. 



Sm FBANGIS DRAKE. 



An orphan, thougli its parents lived, 
The offspring of their shame ; 

Defenceless, and without a home, 
Alone, without a name. 

Kind Sisters took the outcast in, 

Its little wants supplied. 
Or soon this little child of sin 

Of hunger would have died. 

The chilhng wind, the winter's breath. 
Blew cold late in December ; 

Because he did not freeze to death, 
The Sisters called him Ember. 

Fit name for this, as bright a spark 
As love e'er struck from shame ; 

Though kindled in the guilty dark, 
It burst into a flame — 



54 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



A flame that could not be suppressed, 
A burning shame and scandal ; 

It never knew its mother's breast, 
A mother worse than vandal. 

No children of their own to bless, 
For whom to watch and pray, 

The Sisters sought the little ones 
That others threw away. 

In mind and body Ember grew. 

Intelligent and strong ; 
Was taught to keep the right in view, 

And to avoid the wrong. 

And by that name he went and came 
Till he had grown quite stout ; 

Then, not content with what it meant. 
He put the Ember out ; 



Sm FRANCIS DRAKE. 55 



That is, lie said unto the nuns, 

" A seaman I will make ; 
And as you seem so fond of puns, 

I choose the name of Drake." 

One of the Irish Sisters said, 

" Tour name is very fowl, 
And yet it suits a seaman well. 

It does, upon my soul. 

" And, Drake, when you are out at sea. 
In fight or stormy weather, 
No ducking let there be with thee. 
Don't show the coward feather. 

" The patriot seaman freely braves 
The dangers of the sea. 
The howling storm, the dashing waves, 
That roll triumphantly. 



56 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



" His country lias his heart and hand, 
His home his thoughts and cares ; 
He serves his own, his native land, 
No foreign foe he fears. 

" With motives pure, and honor bright,, 
Your country to sustain. 
You can, amidst the storm at night, 
In truth and faith exclaim : 

"'Blow on, ye winds! ye thunders, roar! 
Ye Hghtnings, streak the sky ! 
Ye waters, dash from shore to shore ! 
Ye waves, roll mountain high ! 

" ' I do not dread the Fates' decree, 
I know it will be just ; 
My country sent me out to sea. 
So in the Fates I'll trust. 



Sm FBANCIS BRAKE. 57 



" ' And yet, if Fortune think it right 
To make tlie sea my grave, 
I'll sink and drown this stormy night, 
My country but to save.' 

" Thus to your country freely give 
Tour hopes, all bright and high ; 
Thus for your country bravely Hve, 
And for it bravely die." 

This patriotic, brief address 
Sank deep into his heart ; 

Through life he felt it prompting him 
To act the nobler part. 

He went on board the man-of-war. 

The little cabin boy, 
To see, what very soon he saw, 

What thrilled his heart with joy. 



58 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



He saw old Ocean, deep and wide, 
His waves with foaming crest ; 

He saw the frigate proudly ride 
Upon his heaving breast. 

He saw the iceberg mountain high, 

The white bear on its side, 
As forcibly it drifted by, 

The plaything of the tide. 

He saw the storm in all its wrath, 

And heard its mighty roar ; 
He saw the sea without a path 

To lead to any shore. 

He saw the floating wrecks of ships. 

All shattered on the shoals. 
Which seemed to speak, though sealed their lips, 

Of lost and ruined souls. 



SIB FRANCIS BRAKE. 59 



He saw the calm, wlien silence reigns 

Supreme upon the deep, 
When tired nature strength regains. 

And Ocean seems asleep. 

He saw the swallow skimming o'er 

The surface of the sea. 
The white gulls darting to and fro. 

The sea birds wild and free. 

He saw the serpent as it chased 

The gliding ship along ; 
He saw the mermaid to her waist. 

And heard her siren song. 

He saw the porpoise and the shark 

Close to the vessel keep, 
The distant walrus and the whale, 

Those monsters of the deep. 



60 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



Indeed, he saw, on this first trip, 

Whatever eyes could see ; 
He scanned each rope upon the ship, 

Each bolt and beam and key. 

He closely watched each shifting sail. 
And learn its use and power ; 

He saw the frigate, in a gale, 
Make twenty knots an hour. 

His first ambition was to climb 
High up the towering mast ; 

To be the first and richest man 
In England was his last. 

He soon achieved his boyish wish, 

The acme of his hopes ; 
It took him but a month or two 

At most to learn the ropes. 



Sm FRANCIS DRAKE. 61 



A sailor noticed little Drake, 

And said to him in play, 
"My little chap, sit on my lap; 

What does a vessel weigh ? " 

"Its anchor," was the quick reply ; 

" And if it weighed its men, 
'Twould find that you, of all the crew, 

Would weigh twelve score and ten. 

" And yet you cannot tell, I'll bet 

A half a pint of flip. 
Why you are still the Kghtest man 

Of all on board the ship." 

" I give it up," the fat man said; 

" How can you make out that ? 
I will not bet, but if you'll tell, 

Then you can take my hat." 



62 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



The boy jumped from tlie sailor's lap, 
And throwing on the deck his cap, 
And taking from the sailor's head 
His hat, thus to the sailor said : 

" Why, every man on shipboard can 
(Unless he comes from York) 

The reason tell, at once and well. 
You are a man of Cork." 

The Irish sailor saw the pun. 
And, with the rest, enjoyed the fun, 
And laughing till he shook each side, 
To Drake's good hit he thus replied : 

"And faith, and by St. George! I think 

This boy deserves the hat ; 
If he be right I'll never sink : 

I thank him much for that." 



SIM FBANGI8 BRAKE. 



This wit of Drake's made him a pet 

Among the jolly crew ; 
About the frigate and the sea 

They told him all they knew. 

Three voyages more he made to sea 
On board the man-of-war ; 

Then, being twenty- one, was free, 
According to the law. 

Nine years of service well improved 
Were quite enough, indeed, 

To make proficient any one 
Determined to succeed. 

So was his purpose early fixed, 

It never grew the less ; 
Defeat or failure never mixed 

"With his prolonged success. 



64 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



Tlie weary voyage at an end, 
The sea-worn ship arrived, 

Each sailor went to see what friend. 
What relative survived. 

With grateful heart for kindness done, 
With soul subdued and mild, 

Our sailor to the Convent went 
Just like a little child, 

To see the noble Sisters three, 

To offer them his thanks, 
To offer, too, for charity, 

A purse well filled with francs. 

Two of the Sisters that were there 

When he first went to sea 
No longer knelt on earth in prayer, 

In heaven they bent the knee 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 65 



Before that God who saw their deeds 

Of charity and love ; 
That God, who knows no sects nor creeds, 

Had welcomed them above. 

But one remained, and she was old, 

Infirm and very blind ; 
Yet to the hardy seaman bold 

She still was very kind. 

She took the sailor's offered hand, 

His voice she did remember, 
And then said she, " Oh, can this be 

The velvet hand of Ember ? 

" But never mind about the hand. 

The heart's the great concern ; 

Let that be soft, and very oft 

With heavenly fire burn." 
5 



66 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



ThoTigli blind, she saw tliat fame and wealth 
By Drake were greatly prized ; 

She counselled him about his health, 
In morals thus advised : 

" The world is full of vain deceit, 
And promises each day 
Its pleasures to the thoughtless crowd 
Who'll follow in its way. 

" One day departs, another comes, 
The promise is renewed ; 
The pleasures, still unrealized, 
With vigor are pursued. 

" The miser thinks that heaps of gold 
Will solid comfort give, 
And so resolves within his soul 
For wealth alone to live. 



SIB FBANGI8 BRAKE. 67 



"Poor wretcli, indeed! unmindful lie 
Of what the Scriptures say, 
That riches have their golden wings 
With which to fly away. 

" Ambition leads the courtier up 
The slippery steep of fame, 
Upon whose summit he would stand 
To tell the world his name. 

"Some stumble at the very base 
And sink beneath the mire, 
While others, better guided, reach 
A point a little higher. 

"Yet, not content, they still ascend. 
Besmeared with mud and weary, 
And as they tread the higher ground, 
They find that all is dreary. 



FUGITIVE POEMS. 



"The very apex almost gained, 
A single step required, 
But that misplaced, alas ! they fall, 
And sink with those that mired. 

" The simple girl expects to find 
Her greatest bliss in praises ; 
In splendid dress and equipage, 
The dance's giddy mazes. 

" With beating heart and open ear 
She'll listen, night and day, 
To fulsome praise and compliment, 
To what admirers say. 

" She hears a thousand handsome things 
Said of her to her face ; 
Dissatisfied ! for still there is 
Within an aching space. 



SIM FRANCIS DRAKE. 69 



" And so the world deceives them all ; 
Its pleasures fly away 
Like summer clouds before the wind, 
Or dew at opening day. 

" True pleasures can alone be found 
In duties well performed ; 
These make a breastwork high and strong, 
That never can be stormed. 

"And then it matters not so much 
What our duties are ; 
If we discharge them faithfully, 
The honor Ueth there." 

The aged Sister said no more. 
The hour for mass had come ; 

Drake led her to the chapel door 
In silence ; he was dumb — 



10 FUGITIVE POEMS. 



His heart was full, but not a word 

Of thanks could lie express ; 
Could lie have uttered what he felt, 

His grief would have been less. 

With quivering lip and trembling hand 

He bade his friend farewell ; 
How much he thanked her both well knew. 

Although he could not tell. 

She entered; he remained awhile 

Just at the chapel door ; 
He saw her totter up the aisle, 

He saw his friend no more. 

That friend, who, in his infancy, 

Supplied the mother's place ; 
That Sister, in the truest sense. 

Of all the human race. 



SIB FRANCIS DRAKE. 71 



With that kind friend, that Sister dear, 

He now had taken leave ; 
He wiped away the manly tear 

Upon his flannel sleeve. 

He cherished, in his heart of hearts, 

The lesson he had heard, 
Bemembered its substantial parts. 

And nearly every word. 

No man in all the British realm. 

Then mistress of the sea, 
Was better fitted for the helm 

Of man-of-war than he. 

The helm was placed within his hands. 

The sailor-boy no more. 
But Captain in a high command. 

And soon a Commodore. 



FUGITIVE POEMS. 



The risks and dangers of the main 

He failed not to incur, 
And for his services his Queen 

Entitled him a Sir. 

The history of Sir Francis Drake 
To all the world is known ; 

On Ember and his early life 
But little light is thrown. 

So we essay to brush away 
The ashes from that spark, 

Ordained to make on sea and lake 
A bright and shining mark. 



